


Reflections

by AceOfPortals



Category: World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfPortals/pseuds/AceOfPortals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reflection (noun): Serious thought or consideration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Am Worth Anything Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darion reflects on the purpose of the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was thinking about how the Ebon Blade has basically done nothing important since wrath. I'm currently leveling a death knight so I'll be able to do this class quests in legion, and while I haven't played any of alpha and have basically been avoiding all spoilers, I just have to wonder where the Ebon Blade has been for the past few expacs. Just some self reflections written from Darion's pov.

There was a certain bitterness in his defeat, there still was in a way. There was no rightful place in the world of the living for a dead man to walk. 

The living existed with purpose. When you are still breathing, your heart still beating, purpose can be found in most everything - menial or otherwise. 

Under the service of him, most had a lack of living conscious; what good is a weapon with emotion in an army filled with ruthless slaughtering machines, anyway. Purpose wasn't even needed, as it was imposed upon you. 

Now, purpose after being freed seemed obvious. Revenge has and will always be a good motivator; especially when lacing itself through purpose, either a deadly poison or an addicting drug. Though the two aren't very distinguishable, especially in outcome today. But even that was gone. 

So what was one supposed to do with no purpose to guide them? When the only purpose you have known was twisted with personal revenge? Where would you lead yourself, and others who depend on you for a pseudo-purpose?

Waiting did little; if you would even call it waiting, it was more like stalling to find something worth fighting for. Nothing would satisfy as a purpose, the feeling of overspent revenge would always determine that it's not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long while since I've written anything, and a long ass time since I've wanted to either. But today I wanted to, and I did. Probably very rusty, and it's also like 2 am so, and it's not my best writing but I really want to get back into writing - and especially finish up some stuff on here. I might write more on for this, I have a vague idea on where to go so I'm going to leave this open for more chapters. I'll try to fix messy grammar or spelling mistakes in the morning but no promises.


	2. Judas Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaina doesn't let bitterness drive her, but the sting of betrayal can do much for the once kindhearted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all what's good, I haven't posted a thing in like a year. All has not been well, I have not seriously written in a long ass time! I know I said that in the last chapter of this, after I also hadn't written in a year (yikes). So it's been about 2 years since I have hit up anything serious. Lately I've been a bit antsy to get some sort of creative output though, so I have been doing some little things here and there. I really like the idea I had for this series, and I hope it doesn't bother anyone too much that this one isn't about Darion (we'll get back to him promise). Anyway forgive me for any minor mistakes or if this feels a little awkward, it's been awhile.

There was a familiar burn in her lungs, that which felt like betrayal. It scorched her body, barely holding back tears from streaking their too hot path down her face. They never listened to her. And Theramore burned, with it all the people, everything she worked for to save. And now Varian was dead.  She could almost laugh at how the irony played out. She had believed there was good in all people once. She remember how those older than her would laugh as they told not to be so naive; she also remembered how tears would burn in her eyes as she told them that they needed to have more faith in people. She wondered briefly how the youth would feel seeing herself now. After all the good she worked for had betrayed her. Those she had saved and worked, spitting in her face. Letting her city burn to ash, her leader and friend and countless amounts of warriors be killed. Through selfishness her younger self could never see.  She still remember the first scorching burn of betrayal. It was a beautiful day, the smell of spring high in the air, warm and almost perfect. She still felt cold, surrounded by troops as she watched the her love go in hysterics. She still remember how her throat constricted as she turned away, denying him as she said she would never.  She still remembered the overwhelming feel of arcane thrumming around her, as she screamed, tears marking tracks through the dirt caking her face. Looking over the ruins of everything she had worked for. The crippled and marred bodies of the people she had tried to save so many years before. The crescent shaped bruises on her forearms, where he had tried to pull her back to sanity.  She still remembered the acidic smell of fel in the air, the crumbling black rock littered with the bloodied bodies of soldiers. She remembered seeing the last friend from her childhood be whisked away, as they once again turned their backs and walked away.  The others still tried to tell her she was blinded, that in order to succeed they needed to work together. After everything done to her, too the people of the Alliance, they still believe they should work together. After all the destruction and hatred. Looking at Khadgar as he pleaded to the council to allow the Horde back into Dalaran almost reminded her of looking back on herself, teary eyed and determined to make a difference.  It was still too much too stomach. Seeing everyone agree, even Kalec who had seen Theramore after it had been torn apart by the Horde. Her eyes welled and throat constricted as she turned away, opening a portal and leaving as quickly as she could manage.  She still felt the burning sting, sitting by the what was the old harbor in Theramore. Her heart ached, but it had too many holes to feel sympathy after everything that had been done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Jaina, a lot folks. Like a good amount. Super bitter about everything happening with her but take a little blurb about her side of things, in my opinion. I would like to expand upon this, just like I will with Darion. But I'll let it come naturally, since these two have just been little muses that popped up in my head. I have a bit more freedom working on some characters, as opposed to people like Darion though since he's a little trapped in actual story line (which I'm happy about!)  
> Again forgive me for dumping my account, I've had a rough handful of years but things are shaping up. I'm going to try to pump small things for this out as often as possible, hopefully one a day? That might be overshooting it rn, but I'm pretty clear in schedule except for Wednesdays when I have class from 8:55 am to 7:00 pm. I'm also trying to work on a chaptered fic, but also wondering if I should maybe rewrite something that has been, sadly, sitting on here dead for a couple of years.


End file.
